


Blame the Devil

by the_glow_worm



Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Succubi & Incubi, The Devil Made Them Do It, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_glow_worm/pseuds/the_glow_worm
Summary: “What are incubi?” she demanded. “Richard, what have we done?”---In Richard's basement, late at night, Alex opens a book of incantations--and unleashes something from inside both of them. PWP.





	Blame the Devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SocknSock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocknSock/gifts).



He was on her before the last syllable of the incantation had even faded from the air, pulling her out of her chair with strength fueled entirely by need—as all-consuming as it was sudden. Somewhere in the empty chambers of his mind, he could feel some small part of himself trying to reason with the lust, to re-orient himself towards reason and logic. The animal of Richard Strand’s body only wrapped both arms around Alex Reagan’s slender frame and bore her to the ground.

 

Alex moaned against his mouth, the grimoire slipping from her hand as she coiled her arms around his neck. He could feel her fingers twisting through his hair, the sensation making him groan. He was tearing at her shirt—his fingers suddenly thick and clumsy with lust, and too impatient to undo the buttons. Richard felt the fabric rip beneath his hands.

 

There was a distant tremor of shock from that small part of him, but it was easy to ignore; the sound of Alex panting in his ear was sufficient to drown out all thought. Her nails raked down his back, puncturing the cotton of his shirt and opening his skin up to the air, cool against his superheated skin. Richard felt overloaded with sensation, electric with desire, more aware of his pounding blood than he had ever been. Aware, too, of Alex, her flannel shirt open to reveal a simple black bra, and the creamy perfection of her skin, smoother than anything he had allowed himself to imagine.  

 

But his hands, restless, were in no mood to let him appreciate the view. He felt—greedy, that was the only word for it. His lust was almost like an external force, spurring him on. Behind his eyes was a blank grey mist, containing nothing but a single burning thought: he wanted Alex, and he wanted her _now_. He pushed down her bra, too frenzied to try to undo it, the straps slipping down off her shoulders and exposing her breasts. Panting, he lowered his mouth to her nipples and licked. Alex gasped, clutching at his shoulders.

 

He had dreamed of doing this, but that had nothing to do with why he was doing it now; that small part of his mind was puzzling at this conundrum. Hadn’t he always wanted Alex Reagan? Yes, always, of course. But why now, why here, in the middle of cleaning out his father’s basement? Alex had found an old book, and had been reading some of it out loud. Her voice, as always, was cool and pleasant, and she had an unexpectedly good ear for Latin. And then—and then—

 

Alex was shifting beneath him, whimpering, her hands travelling everywhere on him. Richard closed his eyes, gasping for breath; he felt burningly aware of every inch of her body. She was cupping him through his jeans, feeling the length and thickness of him. Even through the rough denim, the sensation was overwhelming. A shudder passed over him, and he bit down, hard, on her collarbone. She cried out, tensing against him, and then he was tugging at her jeans, jerking her hips one way and another, unable to control himself. He had never been this rough in bed, always careful of his own strength. This was the result of twenty years of near-abstinence, he tried to tell himself, but that could not satisfy the rigorously rational machine he had made of his mind. There was something wrong here. Alarm bells were ringing distantly in his mind, but Alex was struggling with his own jeans, as desperate as he was, and her fingers, cleverer than his, finally undid the zipper.

 

She pulled him out of his briefs with a sigh of relief, holding the weight of him in her hand, and they both froze.

 

The touch of her hand had brought Richard abruptly back to himself, like an electric shock going through him, the alarm bells ringing all-too-clearly now. From the look on Alex’s face, something similar had happened to her. She was breathing hard, her hair unraveled from her low ponytail, her eyes gaining focus even as they stared at each other, bewildered. Her bra strap had been torn nearly completely off, and the tendrils of her ruined shirt pooled around her, the red-and-black flannel only highlighting the creamy silkiness of her skin, skin that Richard had been stroking and fondling and kissing until very recently. He noted the bitemarks on her breasts and collarbone, already turning an angry red, and was suddenly aware of his sweat stinging as it fell into the marks she had scratched into his back.

 

Alex closed and opened her eyes, slowly, as if hoping she was in some kind of dream. She was still gripping Richard’s cock, and she dropped it, jerking her hand back as if it was too hot for her. He nearly whimpered at the absence, but instead he held himself carefully still, waiting.

 

“What the fuck,” she said, “just happened?”

 

Richard backed away, tucking himself back into his pants; as if that had alerted Alex to her own nakedness, she flushed and pulled up her bra.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, as levelly as he could. “I clearly misread some kind of sign.”

 

Alex looked at him in disbelief, getting to her feet. “What are you talking about?” she said. “There was no _sign_. I was reading that book and then suddenly we both went crazy. It wasn’t something you initiated by yourself. I remember wanting it too—and for the record, I am not that kind of girl! I wouldn’t exactly choose to do it in your father’s basement, I don’t normally get turned on by musty—musty old….books…” Her ranting petered off. She stared at him.

 

“The incantation I was reading,” she said in horror. “I was reading it aloud. It was—oh my god! It was a spell to summon a demon.”

 

“Alex—”

 

“Don’t say it!” She rushed towards the fallen chair where she had been sitting. The grimoire had landed face down on the floor, open to the same page. She hauled it before his eyes, and he looked at the page without comprehension. All he could think about was how a moment earlier he had had Alex beneath him on the floor of his father’s mansion, writhing with desire. His hands were shaking; he made fists of them. He forced himself to focus his eyes.

 

It was an image of two figures, inked in darkly with harsh, thick strokes. He could not guess at their genders, but the image was clearly meant to depict the beast with two backs. The positioning, and the looks of ecstasy in their faces, were impossible to mistake. Above it was written, in clear modern English, _An Incantation to Summon Incubi_.

 

Alex had taken back the grimoire and was staring at it pale-faced, eyes wide with fear.

 

“What are incubi?” she demanded. “Richard, what have we done?”

 

“We’ve done nothing,” said Richard, trying to sound calm. “This kind of misunderstanding happens all the time.” He swallowed. “I apologize for the mess I made of your shirt,” he went on, a little less steadily. “I’ll—I’ll call Ruby, have her bring you some clothes in your size…”

 

“God, no!” Alex looked wild. “I don’t want _new clothes_. I want—”

 

Their eyes met, and in a moment it became evident what Alex _did_ want. He felt that electric desire moving through him again, and he took a step towards her without quite meaning to. He watched the nervous movement of her tongue, licking her lips, with an all-consuming focus.

 

“I think I’ve figured out what incubi are,” she said.

 

“There’s no such thing,” said Richard reflexively.

 

“How can you say that?” she asked, just as reflexively, and for a moment they might have been sitting down in the studio to argue their way through another interview, and not both half-naked in his father’s basement. She would present some wild theory, and he would explain why it couldn’t be possible; she would conjecture, he would lecture, and they would debate the point until Nic stepped in to tell them they had enough tape. Richard took a deep breath, dragging his eyes away from Alex’s lips, red and swollen where he had bitten them. He could reason his way through this.

 

“Humans have always looked for something external to blame when their sexual drives lead them down unsettling avenues,” he said. There was comfort in the familiar theme. “Some chose to invent demons. Incubi. Succubi. In the end, though, humans are responsible for their own actions. There’s only us in this room. Only—only the two of us. _We_ were the ones who did this. _We_ were—well.” He looked down. His voice was remarkably steady to his own ears. “I know this puts us in an uncomfortable situation. I understand if you think we should avoid each other for a while.”

 

“No!”

 

She said the words too quickly, and Richard snapped his head up. For a moment Alex looked surprised by her outburst. Her hands tightened around the book.

 

“You still feel it too, don’t you?” she asked. “The grimoire—the grimoire says that the incubus is only banished from the body when—”

 

“When what?” It was an active struggle to hold himself still. Every part of his body wanted to rush to Alex, to feel and stroke and fuck her. She stared at him as if she would have welcomed it.

 

“You have to fuck me, Richard,” she said softly. “It’s the only way to get rid of the demon.”

 

He closed the scant distance between them before he had even realized it, hungry for her, before he caught himself on the table’s edge and steadied himself. Alex had moved too, her long eager steps betraying just how well she had talked herself into believing the grimoire. She reached for him, but he stepped sideways and put the corner of the table between them, not trusting himself. They stared at each other.

 

Of all the ways he had imagined Alex Reagan somehow being with him, choosing him, _wanting_ him, this had never been an option. There had been fantasies—stolen in the moments before sleep. Late nights in the studio, perhaps, or a quiet dinner sometime after the show inevitably moved on. Kissing in the soft Seattle rain. Alex in his bed, eventually, after a courtship; these were the things he had allowed himself to imagine. Things that other people had, things that normal people shared. Not this. Not with Alex hysteric and cozened by some charlatan’s tome, and he half-willing to believe it himself if it meant he would be allowed to taste her, to hold her, to curl his fingers inside of her and make her scream. He was more tempted than he ought to have been, and that knowledge burned within him; when she reached for him again, he moved away, backing nearly violently across the room. If he touched her he would have kissed her, and if he kissed her he would have fucked her. He did not touch her.

 

“You really trust the word of some old book?” he snapped. He could feel his erection straining against his jeans. Alex threw a scorching look at him.

 

“All I know is that I recited that incantation in your father’s book—who even knows why—and then suddenly we’re—” Her face was burning red. “God! What if we _have_ done something to ourselves? Invited—something—inside of us? Please, Richard, at least consider it!”

 

“There’s nothing to invite.” He bit off the words. “Humans feel sexual desire. There’s nothing supernatural about it.”

 

“You don’t think there’s nothing strange about—” She took a deep, steadying breath. “We were tearing off each other’s clothes—literally—pretty much as soon as I finished reading those lines. How do you explain that?”

 

He turned away from her. The skin of his back prickled where she had scratched him. “We were—subconsciously primed—” It was hard to think. He felt dizzy with want, even with his eyes turned determinedly away from Alex. “Sexual hysteria is a common enough diagnosis in history,” he said more firmly. “The demon possession trials in Louviers, for example—” he stopped, gritting his teeth against the treacherous images that filed his mind's eye. Several of the nuns, testifying, had been said to lift up their habits before the eyes of the male clerical court and beg for sexual favors from the priests gathered there; proof, it was said, of their demonic possession, but Richard could suddenly visualize exactly how the nuns had looked and sounded as they begged for men to fuck them.

 

“Demon possession trials?” said Alex, sharply. “So there’s precedent.”

 

“No,” he choked out. He took a deep breath, tried to concentrate on the far brick wall. He was painfully hard. “There’s no precedent for _anything_. There are no such things as demons.”

 

“Then what are the Louviers demon possessions?” Alex was walking towards him; from across the room he could feel the heat of her body get closer.

 

“In the 17th century, there were a series of alleged demon possessions of nuns in France,” said Richard, taking refuge in being didactic. “Reportedly they spoke in tongues, had uncontrollable fits, and—”

 

“And what?” She was standing too close now.

 

“And several claimed acts of sexual congress with the devil.” Richard cleared his throat. He was very aware of her presence, standing only a foot or so behind him. “But they were likely lying.”

 

“Lying nuns. Really _._ ”

 

“In those days nunneries often consisted of young women sent away from their families for reasons of general unmarriageability. Sometimes they were emotionally unstable, or no longer virgin, or both. They were ripe for seduction by priests, or easily led into making false accusations to get rid of clergymen they disliked. Demon possession at that time in France was something in vogue—” He was rambling, and aware of it, but could not stop. Alex was a burning star in his orbit. He felt preternaturally aware of the heat and smell of her. “Many theories have been advanced. They may have been mentally ill, or attention-seeking—”

 

“Oh, so you think I’m doing this for your attention?” said Alex, in a dangerously low voice. Richard froze. Her voice was in his ear, so close that he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up to attention. A moment later her arms slid around his waist and under the remains of his shirt. He gasped for air, breath coming only shakily into his lungs. His synapses were on fire, blacking out rational thought and purpose. He could only think and feel and sense _Alex_ ; the press of her breasts against his back, the scratch of her fingernails across his chest, the roll of her hips as she began to grind herself against him. “Believe me, this doesn’t even top the list of the things I would do to get your attention. That I’ve _done_.”

 

“That’s not what I—” He cut himself off with a groan as her arms tightened around his chest, and then began to creep lower. Heat gathered under his skin, chasing the movement of her hands down his abdomen and below the waistband of his jeans. He had to leave. He _had_ to leave, but it was all he could do to stay still.

 

“God, _fuck_ me,” said Alex.

 

Richard panted, every other breath coming out as a moan. His cock twitched as Alex’s fingers brushed it below the denim, pre-come leaking all over himself. He hadn’t felt this helplessly, hopelessly aroused since he was an adolescent.

 

“Alex,” he tried. “Y-You’re not in your right mind.”

 

“Neither are you, _Dr. Strand_ ,” said Alex, his title flung at him as if to mock him. “I _know_ you’re feeling what I’m feeling. There’s something inside of us. Can’t you feel it? And—and don’t try to logic your way out! Can’t you—can’t you _feel_ it?”

 

All he could feel was her. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he thought he could _see_ it; a hideous face swimming up from somewhere in the darkness of his psyche, distorted with lust. He opened his eyes, his heart beating shamefully in his chest, and it seemed like the afterimage of the demon’s face lasted for just a second too long.

 

“It’s not a demon I’m feeling,” he said as strongly as he could, as if to reassure himself as well as her. “There’s no such thing. There’s—” His groan came from somewhere deep in his throat, low and animal-like. Alex had moved around to face him. He could feel her warmth pressing against his cock as if there weren’t any layers of clothing in between them at all.

 

“Alex,” he said instead. “ _Alex_ —”

 

Her eyes were intent on his. Richard felt as if he was being transfixed by their light. He saw desire in them: but also fear. She really believed what she was saying.

 

“Richard,” she began, low. “I know—”

 

“I don’t want you like this,” he blurted out, and she froze. “I don’t—I don’t want you to—to—” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word _fuck_. “—to _be_ with me because some crackpot book told you to! I don’t want you confused and wanting me because you’re afraid of a demon inside you. Because you think that it’s—what, your only choice?”

 

“It is my only choice!” said Alex. “It’s _our_ only choice, why won’t you just admit it?”

 

His erection was pressing through his jeans, against the lower part of her bare stomach. It throbbed between them, leaving him light-headed. Alex was very, very close.

 

“I don’t want you like this,” he managed to say again.

 

She backed away, and his entire body ached for her to come back.

 

“But you do want me,” she said.

 

Richard took in a shaking breath and did not answer. The silence stretched thin.

 

“Fine,” she said, color in her cheeks. “Fine—if you won’t, I’m sure someone else will. I bet Nic would fuck me, if I asked nicely—” She let out a choked laugh. “Or maybe Thomas Warren, do you think? Oh, I bet Tannis Braun would give it a go—”

 

Something within him snapped, an impulse he didn’t know he had taking control of him. Richard lunged for her even as she reached for her phone, wrapping his hands around her wrists and spinning her around to face him. Some seal had broken open inside of him as soon as she had talked about fucking other men, an unreasoning desire pouring out of that hidden place in his psyche and creeping through his veins. His blood pounded furiously in his ears.

 

“The only person who’s going to fuck you tonight is me,” he growled, possessive, while inside of himself he felt astonished and sick; this was not who he was. But it was coming out of his mouth nonetheless, and he watched Alex’s eyes darken at the sound. Her lips opened, inviting and wet, and he kissed her hard, both hands wrapped around her wrists, driving her backwards until her back hit the wall.

 

He let go of her wrists when she tugged, instead tangling his fingers in her hair. He felt lost, his wits confused and wandering, breathing in from Alex’s skin as if he might find his sanity there. But there was no such thing as sanity anymore: only desire, and it moved through him like a flame through a dry wood. In quick, jerking motions Richard removed Alex’s bra, tugging at it until it ripped through the vulnerable point in the middle. Her breath caught as his thumbs moved over her nipples. They were standing stiffly to attention, so sensitive that the barest brush brought her arching against him, seeking more.

 

Her hands clenched against him, gathering fistfuls of his shirt, frenziedly trying to remove the last barrier between their bare skins. Richard was far more interested in pressing her body closer to his. If he thought he had been aroused before, it was nothing to the bottomless heat he felt now. His mind felt animal-like, focused to the point of stupidity. Alex had to push him away to pull the shirt over his head, and then she was on him again, as hungry as he was, shedding the remnants of her bra to the floor. Her teeth nipped at the base of his jaw, making him moan, and he picked Alex bodily up in his arms and spun them around, her denim-clad legs wrapping around his waist and pressing against his erection.

 

By blind luck they found the table and collapsed onto it, her hair spreading over antique wood and old papers. Richard covered her with his body, his hips beginning to thrust on their own. His hands traveled down the soft skin of her waist and stopped there, just above the waistband of her jeans; something was making him hesitate, even now, but with every passing moment it was getting harder to remember what. His erection was painful against his jeans. Richard tried to lose himself in the sensation of kissing her warm, wet mouth, but he could not stop imagining how it would feel on his cock.

 

The way Alex moaned, she might as well as heard the thought in his mind. She shifted below him, reaching for the button of his jeans. His hands moved again, of his own volition, slipping down to her waistband, pulling until the button came loose. They were wrestling back and forth on the smooth wood surface of the old table, trying to kiss and feel and undress each other at the same time, all their movements frenetic and unthinking. Richard was feverishly trying to pull down her jeans; he could not now remember why he had ever hesitated at all. His own jeans were already off, somehow, and Alex was single-mindedly pawing at his underwear. She hadn’t even managed to slide all it off before she began to suck him off.

 

Her mouth was exactly as good as he had known it would be, her tongue teasing along his length, trailing saliva up and down his cock. Richard could hear himself making noises; low moans and hitched breaths and streams of half-finished words; he would have been startled at himself if he was still capable of it, but his world had narrowed down to the feeling of Alex's lips around his cock. He could think of nothing else. He bucked helplessly into the soft wetness of her mouth as it traveled further down his length. Her fingertips pressed into his hips, ten points of fire, as she took all of him into her throat.

 

Pleasure, so intense it was almost pain, ripped through him. He could feel the muscles of Alex's throat clench around the sensitive tip, incredibly tight and hot and slick. Richard was skittering painfully close to the edge. He struggled for words.

 

"Careful," he managed to gasp out, meaning to warn her that he was going to come, but Alex cut him off with a moan, her voice low and thick around his cock in her mouth.

 

There was a desperate quality to Alex's movements now, as if she wanted his orgasm as badly as he did. Her rhythm was falling apart, becoming sloppy with need. They were both slippery with saliva and pre-come, hands and mouth and cock moving frantically together, nearly frictionless. It felt so good, _too_ good; like a dream that didn't belong to him. Richard felt it building up inside him, and he cried out, driven to an utterly wordless state, twisting with longing for release. Alex whimpered with shared longing, her tongue probing at his tip as if eager for the taste of his come.

 

It was this thought that undid him. He came so suddenly that he felt dizzy, a fast-moving spasm of pleasure moving through his body like an ocean riptide, sweeping him out to sea. For a moment he saw nothing but white; could feel nothing but the motion of Alex’s throat as she swallowed around him.

 

By the time he could breathe and see again, Alex had already crawled up to straddle him, kicking the remainder of her jeans off as she did. She was perfectly unclothed except for the thin blue scrap of her panties, and Richard reached for her almost blindly, pulling her down into his arms. Her ponytail had finally come loose in the passionate struggle, and her hair falling down around her face and onto his chest, messy and snarled and slick where some saliva or come had glazed it, was almost more appealing than all the rest of it.

 

Richard was suddenly, agonizingly aware that he was still hard. Coming in her mouth had done nothing for the deep well of need inside of him. He felt overwhelmed by it; the lust felt vaster than his own body, as if he could never spend enough of himself to satisfy it. Or maybe that was just how it was with _her;_ Alex’s entire length was pressing against him, her naked skin warm against his, her hair curling over his chest. Her smell was intoxicating. Richard pressed his face into the soft skin of her neck, breathing in it with quick, desperate gasps, but Alex, letting out an impatient growl, tipped his head up and kissed him.

 

Richard had rarely been kissed like this before; wet and needy and utterly without reserve. His entire body felt clumsy with wanting; his tongue too heavy in his mouth as he licked at her lips, his hands too big as they roamed roughly over her back. Every sensation was coming to him at once, leaving no room for thought. They were grinding against each other, rutting and thrusting like animals, without direction. Alex pressed against his cock, moaning desperately.

 

A shock went through Richard like the touch of electricity. She was so wet that her underwear had been entirely soaked through, and the rubbing of the drenched cloth against his cock was almost unbearably good. In a single convulsive motion he wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over so that she was on her back on his father’s table. With one finger he pushed the crotch of her panties to the side.

 

Alex twisted and moaned as she felt his finger slide over her cunt. She was dripping wet, the lips of her cunt glistening and red. Richard’s cock was throbbing just looking at it. Without a thought in his mind he pressed the tip against her. Alex was keening now, begging for it between sharp whimpers—“God, yes-yes-yes, _please_ yes—” but Richard could form no words of his own. He sank into her in a single hard thrust, all the way up to the hilt.

 

They both cried out at once, their voices mingling. Alex was hot and tight around him, ready and perfect and dripping wet for him; it was as good as he had ever fantasized it would be, except better because this was real, this was Alex, she was warm and solid in his arms. He could not remember ever wanting anyone more.

 

He thrust into her again, before he was able to control it, and then again. His hips were moving almost on their own, setting a rough, swift rhythm. He was plunging deep into her with every thrust, and her legs coming up around him and squeezing took him even deeper. His body was not his own, but a mere instrument of pleasure, a slave to the blind desire that prowled inside him. Alex was crying out with pleasure, and Richard began to be aware that he, too, was moaning against her cheek. Meaningless words escaped him, _so good_ and _fuck_ and _yesyesyes_ and, reverently, _Alex_.

 

She bit into his shoulder as she came, her body clenching around him so tightly that he was pulled off the edge with her. Some vague worry passed through his mind—there had not even been a thought about condoms—but it was forgotten in the next moment as he came inside her.

 

He fucked her through his orgasm, feeling her gasp and shudder beneath him, thrusting into his own come. He was still hard at the end, and Richard was glad of it; he wanted to fuck Alex forever, wanted to always hold her in his arms and make her moan.

 

He came twice more inside of her, thrusting into her hard and fast in the slippery mess of their combined arousal, until both their thighs were covered and wet. At some point Richard had gotten off the table and stood up, pumping into Alex as she sat on the edge and moaned into his mouth. Her legs were wrapped so tightly around him that it was almost effortless to pick her up from the edge.

 

They fucked standing up, unable to even make it to the wall. She clung to his shoulders as she rocked against him, her nails digging into his skin with a feverish desperation. Their faces were touching, lips brushing against each other but not quite kissing. Only their quick, panting breaths filled the dark narrow space between them.

 

“Richard,” Alex murmured. “Richard—”

 

Her voice was like a burning touch. He kissed her, unable to stand the idea of not touching any single part of her. His hips surged against hers, seeking heat and friction, but it wasn’t enough. He needed something to steady her against, so he could fuck her the way they both wanted, the way they both _needed_ —

 

He had pressed her against the wall before he was aware of himself, his hand bracing against the smooth-worn brick, thrusting into Alex faster than he had done before. Her thighs were a slick, warm weight over his biceps, her face a portrait of ecstasy.

 

“ _God_ , yes,” she panted. “Yes, yes-yes-yes, _yes_ —”

 

Richard could only look at her, at the dark hair curling over her forehead, her lips lushly round with pleasure, the flush riding high on her cheekbones. In the fog of Richard’s mind, a thought struggled to the surface: she was beautiful. Alex was beautiful.

 

The realization made him gasp and shudder, and a moment later an orgasm rolled through his body, whiting out the world. They tumbled onto the floor, Alex landing on top of him, lips pressing urgently against his neck, riding him to her own completion. A slick wetness was dripping down his cock, pooling out onto his lower belly and thighs, seeping out with every roll of Alex’s hips. It spread over them as their bodies touched and grinded against each other until both of them were slathered in their own come, and every inch of their skin smelled uncompromisingly like sex and arousal.

 

Alex collapsed on top of him when she was done, panting. He could not help himself; Richard clutched at her with both arms, holding her tight against him. She was a comforting weight on his chest, warm and loose in his arms. It felt like something he had missed.

 

He was still inside her, still hard, but he also felt sane again, and feeling it made him realize that he had not been for some time. When Alex turned her head to look at him, her eyes, too, were clear. It _was_ Alex, despite everything; Alex and no one else. There had been nothing inside of either of them except for their own desires. He traced one finger, reverently, along her hair.

 

 “I wanted you for so long,” he said. It felt like a confession, in the spiritual sense; something unburdening from his soul. “I didn’t know—”

 

“I didn’t know either,” she said, in a rush. Her eyes searched through his. “Richard, tell me some of this was real. Any part of it.”

 

His heart was leaping in his chest. Could Alex feel it? Surely she could.

 

“You know that it was,” he said. The words felt heavy as soon as they left his mouth; there were so many years and futures hidden within them. But for now, the present. “There are no such things as demons,” he continued, after a silent moment. “Whatever we chose, we chose it for ourselves. I won’t blame the devil for what we’ve done.”

 

Her lips brushed his, ever so softly. “No,” said Alex. “Neither will I.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like your gift! Thank you so much for requesting it <3


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